Doll Face
by Yami Flo
Summary: She looks like a doll on display. And that thought, just for a second, makes her feel sick...


Character(s): Kayura, Badamon

Warnings: None. Gen fic.

Summary: She looks like a doll on display. And that thought, just for a second, makes her feel sick...

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**Doll Face**

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She looks like a doll.

It's the first thing that goes through Kayura's mind as she watches herself in the large mirror of her private apartment.

Until now, she has barely paid any attention to her reflection. To say the truth, she couldn't quite remember when was the last time she has seen her own face's reflection anywhere. Her various teachers, the ones who teach her how to properly use weapons and the ones who teach her etiquette, as well as Badamon's private lessons, left her with little time to just dress up and admire herself.

She had been just a kid the last time she had really taken notice of her appearance. And would you look at her now! How much she has changed!

She keeps in mind, barely, the image of a young girl in short kimono, hairs just reaching her shoulders, with no makeup, no jewels or ornaments of any sort to stand out of the crowd. A thin peasant girl, without anything special about her.

The reflection in the mirror couldn't be more different.

She has grown up, and not just a little, though she remains petite and a small voice deep inside her keeps repeating she will stay so. Her body also gains curves. She not has a woman's body, with breasts perhaps a tad too developed for a girl who shouldn't be older than twelve years old.

However, it isn't the detail that caught her attention and makes her ill-at-ease.

Her simple, peasant-like kimono has since long be replaced by costly, rich kimonos made of silk and other precious fabrics, full of colors and beautiful motifs. Kimono which are worthy of the ladies of the Court, superposed in thick layers over her small body.

Her hand goes through her hair in a careless gesture. It's one more difference with the child that nags at the edge of her memories. Her hairs used to be like straw, dry and thin and barely kept in order and too short for the most exquisite hairstyles she would have wanted to have. Nowadays, it's long, so long, and soft under her fingers. It's beautiful and silky and she likes it.

As for her face… it's less round than before, but it's still hers. She still has her pale skin, almost white under the right light. Yes, really, the more she thinks about it, almost everything about her reminds her of a precious doll belonging to a noble brat...

What strikes her the most and makes her frown right now, it's the strange red markings around her eyes. It looks like makeup, one designated to make her eyes more striking and give her a more adult look, a look a bit more… how should she put it? A bit more… cruel. But it doesn't look like any makeup she knows, for it doesn't seem to erase under her touch. Is it a tattoo, then? No, it doesn't look quite like one either.

Then what? What can it be? When did they appear? For she can't remember ever seeing them before?

Where did they come from?

Not that they upset her, not really, but… there's definitely something about them which put her on edge, if only for a second, when she tries to get a closer look. It isn't… normal, and something inside her just wants to scream in agony.

And, even if outwardly, she tries not to let her unease be seen, even if her face stays expressionless, she knows, she feels that behind her, Badamon, even if he isn't reflected in the mirror, watchs her with a suspicious frown. He will have some words for her later, she doesn't doubt it for a second. But for now, he can't speak and punish her. Not when she's set to meet with Arago-sama. Not when he's about to send her on her first mission since… she can't remember how long.

Badamon snaps at her, urging her to follow him by secrets corridors and paths he alone knows to reach the throne room. She's not to be seen by anyone, after all, for she's a well-kept secret. It goes to the point that even the four Masho, her Lord most powerful and trusted Generals, don't know about her. And so it will remain, until and unless her Lord and Master decides they need to know of her existence.

Truth to be told, it doesn't bother her that much. After having secretly observed them, she knows she has nothing in common with any of those barbarians who fancy themselves Generals when they're just uncouth, low-class samurai warriors. She can't picture herself living among them, or even speaking to them.

She throws a last look at her reflection before leaving her quarters. She'll need to change and leave her beautiful clothes for more practical ones, in case she needs to go and fight for the glory of Arago-sama, so she knows she'll have other occasions to watch herself again. The mirror isn't going to disappear.

Still, dressed like she is, going to see her Master… Well, she still has the loathed feeling she just look like a pretty doll.

And that thought, just for a second, makes her feel sick...

**End**


End file.
